


Private Practice

by MenthaLightfoot



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Medical Kink, Playing Doctor, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MenthaLightfoot/pseuds/MenthaLightfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Joly play doctor together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Practice

**Author's Note:**

> The secondary title for this story (the temporary title I began with and couldn't bear to give up completely) is "Show Me Your Coccyx"
> 
> I originally thought this would take me a couple of days and a couple thousand words. It's been a month, I think? Oh well. And Joly is studying to be a nurse in this (rather than a doctor) because it's fun to reinterpret canon!
> 
> Many, many thanks to decourf and jashiku on Tumblr for supporting me as a wrote. Without them, this whole thing would have been in the bin multiple times. 
> 
> My tumblr is menthalightfoot.tumblr.com

Joly fidgeted in his seat on the bus, trying to find some way to get comfortable. A light rain pattered against the windows, and the metal cabin shook and creaked as the bus drove over uneven patches of road.  
  
He was on his way to the Musain after his evening practicum. This semester he had the six to nine PM session, because of scheduling conflicts. It was the worst slot because of the horrible timing—no one wanted to be looking at the innards of a dissected cat that late in the evening. He had spent most of the time tonight stooped over and getting personal with a few feet of large intestine, and now the muscles in his shoulders wouldn't relax. Every time he moved they bunched up tighter and locked. He pulled a face thinking about what he would feel like in the morning—it wouldn’t be pretty, especially combined with his usual morning aches from his fibromyalgia. He finally gave up; he shoved his hips as far down as he could in the cusp of the seat, and rested his head against the glass.  
  
Evening practicum also meant that he was missing Les Amis meetings every week. Combeferre always gave him a debriefing about everything that was said, all the interesting points and new developments, but it wasn't the same as being there. Last week when he had come in, Enjolras was red in the face yelling at Bahorel and Grantaire, who were red themselves and grinning.  
  
“What's happened?” he asked.  
  
Combeferre had sighed. “Enjolras was speaking, and he said something that sounded vaguely sexual, so of course Bahorel and Grantaire jumped on it.”  
  
Joly had perked up a little. “Really? What was it?”  
  
“If you two can’t take anything seriously, why bother?” Enjolras asked. “Why don’t you just go over to the bar and measure your dicks like children? We’re trying to do something here, and we can’t have any _slackers_ slowing us down.” The minute he had said the work dick Grantaire and Bahorel had burst out laughing, and it was a lost cause from there, no matter how much Combeferre tried to calm everyone down. Joly laughed with everyone else, but he knew he had missed the best part. He never got to hear the joke, either.      
  
Of course, he had joined the Les Amis because he cared about the issues and improving society—he knew from having to deal with uppity doctors and frustrated patients that the healthcare system alone needed some real work—and he was serious whenever it came to hashing out how to deal with such a broken world. But the best part of it was that they were all friends; no matter how grave the discussion turned, someone would make a remark or tell a joke that lightened the mood, and they could all laugh together. And even though Grantaire swore that all of it was a waste of time, it really felt like they could do something, if they just brought their minds together. Enjolras alone could probably power a few hundred solar-powered equal-opportunity organic clothing factories with his fervor.  
  
And if it weren’t for the Les Amis, he would have never met Combeferre.    
  
He had come to his first meeting with Enjolras; they were in the same class on public speaking, and Joly had given a speech on ethical issues in medical research that had impressed him. Enjolras pulled him along to the Musain after class one day, and Combeferre had been sitting in the back room, working on a diagram of the hand.  
  
He liked Combeferre instantly. He was pre-med, while Joly was nursing. They both liked Chopin and Alfred Hitchcock, and Combeferre actually laughed when Joly botched impersonations of the head of the biology department, who had a bullfrog voice and constantly lisped. But he didn’t think that they would be more than friends, until they weren’t.  
  
They had been studying for an exam together, and had fallen asleep on the floor in front of Joly’s TV. Joly had woken up first, and because of his tendency to sleep in the weirdest positions, his head was resting on Combeferre’s thigh and his face was pressed into his stomach. Dwelling in that knife-thin place between drowsiness and sleep, and gently warmed by body heat, he spent about ten minutes staring at Combeferre’s collarbone, which peeked out coyly from his light purple button down.  
  
When Combeferre rose up out of his own dreams and stretched, Joly got a glimpse of his acromioclavicular joint, mottled with shades of black and white and gray from the episode of _Alfred Hitchcock Presents_ on the TV. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.    
  
Combeferre yawned and rested his hand on Joly’s head. “Coffee?”  
  
Joly smiled. “Not yet.”  
  
Combeferre nodded, and his fingers leafed through Joly’s hair. Joly stretched his shoulders a little, but then settled back into lethargy. He felt his body get heavier and more cumbersome as Combeferre played with his hair, and when he seemed to be pulling away, and Joly shook his head and curled closer towards him, until the fingers resumed their stroking.  
  
When he opened his eyes, Combeferre was staring down at him, his eyes misty. His lips were open minutely, and his breathing shallow. He ran his fingers down the bridge of Joly’s nose, and lightly touched his lips.  
  
 Joly kissed them.  
  
The bus drove over a pothole, and Joly’s head smacked against the window. He swore, more loudly than he should have. A mother across the aisle with her baby in her lap glared at him.  
  
He smiled at her, and her face softened. The baby gurgled in its sleep.  
He reached down past his feet (grimacing when he was brought face to face with the layers of caked grime and dirt on the metal bar of the seat in front of him) and rummaged around in his bag until he found his phone. 

_How's the meeting going?_  
  
He watched the text go out, and after a few seconds a return message from Combeferre came in.    

     _All right._  
  
Joly stared at it for a moment, and then waited for some sort of elaboration. The screen went dark.  
      
He typed out a reply. _What's everyone talking about? Is Enjolras still going on about President Collard?_ For the last few meetings Enjolras wouldn't stop harping about the new university president, who was raising tuition and avoiding any questions as to why.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
He sighed and stared out the window. The rain had stopped at least. He put his phone away and took out his pain medication, swallowing the pills dry. He didn’t know if it would help (nothing seemed to, no matter what he took) but the act alone made him feel a little better. The bus dropped him off, and he walked two blocks to the Musain.    
  
Only a few stragglers sat in the main part of the bar. He thought about ordering a beer, but pushed the idea away and walked down the corridor into the back.  
Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre were sitting at the back, squinting at Enjolras's laptop. Combeferre pointed to the screen and made a quiet remark, and before he had finished Enjolras's fingers hit the keyboard.  
  
The rest of the Amis were piled together around the couch. Eponine sat in Jehan's lap while he flipped through the pages of his Canongate Burns. Grantaire sprawled on floor beneath them, in a position that only he would find comfortable, working in his sketchbook. Feuilly, Bahorel, and Bossuet were arranged around the coffee table, playing Go Fish halfheartedly. Cosette and Marius were curled up in an armchair together.  
  
When he approached, Grantaire lifted his head.  “Oh, thank god. Our savior has arrived.” Everyone let out a breath.  
  
“What's going on?” Joly asked.  
  
“Nothing,” Bossuet said, sighing and resting his cheek on his palm. “That's the problem.”  
  
“They won't let us leave,” Cosette said.  
  
Joly glanced up at the three. They hadn't noticed him yet, still focused on the laptop screen.  
  
“They won't adjourn the meeting until they finish an editorial for the paper,” Feuilly said, putting down a pair of twos. “And since Enjolras and Combeferre are both fucking grammar Nazis it's been at least an hour of us sitting here while they discuss the finer points of where to place their commas.”  
  
“So why don't you just go?” Joly asked.  
  
“Apparently 'our input is necessary',” Grantaire said, sneering his voice into a rather good imitation of Enjolras. “But of course our input can't be as good as the combined power of their super brains, so they’ve elected to ignore it.”  
  
“You should have kept your mouth shut when Enjolras read the first draft. We wouldn't be stuck here if it weren't for you, asshat,” Bahorel said.  
  
“He asked for my opinion, so I gave it. He shouldn't ask questions he doesn't really want the answers to.”  
  
“What do you want me to do about it?” Joly asked.  
  
“Make them stop,” Jehan said. “Give Combeferre a blowjob under the table. Something. I have my 8 AM Medieval Romance seminar tomorrow, and no amount of coffee will make that okay if I only get five hours of sleep.”  
  
“You're our only hope, Obi Wan,” Marius said.  
  
Joly sighed and stretched his neck a little, taking the accompanying twang of pain in stride. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
He plodded over to the back table. “Hey.”  
      
Combeferre finally saw him, and he smiled. “Hi. How was practicum?”  
  
Courfeyrac cleared off some papers that were stacked on the last chair, and Joly plopped down into it, letting his backpack clunk onto the floor. “We cut open the intestine that Marchand has been ‘saving’ for us. One of the guys accidentally sliced into one of the outer veins, and all this half-congealed blood oozed out.”  
  
“Gross,” Courfeyrac laughed.  
  
“Thank you, Joly, for that image,” Enjolras said.  
  
Combeferre chuckled. “Too graphic for you, Enjolras? Weren’t you the one who wanted to say Collard was ‘rending the hopes of the disadvantaged and hardworking students into ribbons’?”  
  
“You have to put in something memorable. Otherwise it will be the same as any other half-assed editorial whining about the dining hall taking away Pizza Bites.”  
  
“That image isn’t memorable. It’s meant to be provocative, but frankly, it’s mundane,” Combeferre said  
  
Enjolras huffed. “It is _not_ mundane!”  
  
Joly helped himself to a sip of Combeferre’s coffee and grimaced. It had long gone cold, and was way too sweet. “Anyway,” he said. “I was hoping to get home soon. It’s been a long day.” Combeferre’s eyes softened and he smiled knowingly. He had practicum too, but he had the good fortune to snag one in the early afternoon. He reached over and took Joly’s hand.  
  
His skin felt so soft. Joly had washed his hands at least a dozen times in the past few hours, and they were papery.  
  
“We’re nearly done,” Courfeyrac said. “I promised this to the paper’s editor by Thursday, so we pretty much need to bang it out tonight, but we’ve gotten through most of the hard work already.”  
  
“I’m not sure. I’m not happy with it.” Enjolras said. He started typing again. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow, and Joly smiled knowingly.  
  
Combeferre’s eyes followed the cursor as his thumb absently ran over the back of Joly’s hand. “No, you can’t say that. It’s fallacious,” he said.  
      
“What about it is fallacious?”  
      
“To say that Collard is ‘picking at empty pockets’ is _tu quoque_.”  
      
“But it’s true! The board just raised his salary, _and_ there’s unexplained tuition hike, after he says that he’s going to cut unnecessary spending from the budget?”  
      
“Just take it out, all right? For now we’re just trying to get out the facts. You can heap on the fire and brimstone when we start holding demonstrations, if it comes to that,” Combeferre said.  
      
“Of course it’s going to come to that—the administration never responds to student pleas until we start to hurt their image.”     
      
This was not something that would end quickly. Joly considered grabbing the laptop and making a break for it, but his legs would probably give out before he reached the door. And Enjolras would come after him if anything happened to his precious.  
      
He sighed. His lumbar ached, aggravated by the inflexible wooden chair, and his shoulder seized up. He tried to put himself in his happy place. He imagined lying face down in a pile of pillows while Combeferre gave him a massage. Shirtless. And with that orange-scented massage stuff. Until they decided to abandon it to make out, slowly stripping one another, and he would climb on top of Combeferre and kiss down his stomach, down the dark trail of hair…  
  
The corner of his mouth curled up deviously. He took back his hand from under Combeferre’s to knead at his shoulder. A bit too hard—the muscle shifted and spasmed. He bit is lip. “My shoulders are killing me.”  
  
Without looking up, Enjolras asked, “It isn’t your _fibromyalgia_ again, is it?”  
  
Joly blushed and sealed his lips into a thin line. Everyone gave him a hard time for having a disease that “doesn’t really exist” (Bahorel’s words, after Combeferre had explained to him the disagreements in the medical community about fibromyalgia and what caused it). But none of them had to wake up at four in the morning and find that they couldn’t move their legs without screaming in pain. “ _No_. Thanks for your _concern_.”  
  
Enjolras snorted quietly. Combeferre elbowed him gently.  
  
Joly stuck his tongue out at Enjolras. Then, sighing quietly, he shifted the collar of his scrub shirt until his whole left shoulder was exposed, and rubbed at the supraspinatus with light fingers. Courfeyrac giggled.  
  
He fluttered his eyelashes at Combeferre. “When we get home I think you should take a look at it, doctor.”  
  
Underneath the table, Joly slid his leg up against Combeferre’s calf. The flimsy material of his scrubs dragged against the denim. Combeferre jerked a little, a blush rising up out of his collar. Joly smiled, too sweetly to be innocent.  
  
He and Combeferre didn’t have a very wild sex life, and that was probably for the better. When Joly got kinky, he had a tendency to go overboard with it, and Combeferre had a difficult time really enjoying situations that could be potentially demeaning to either of them, even in jest. But there was one ruse that somehow worked for both of them.  
  
Playing doctor.  
  
It wasn’t a hard thing to get into—both of them were training for medical professions, and had advanced understanding of the human anatomy. And fine, it was silly, cheesy, and sometimes Joly had a hard time keeping it together, but it was fun.  
      
Combeferre licked his lips. _Do you mean…? Tonight?_  
  
He rubbed his shoulder a little more and grinned. _If you want it._  
  
“Do you think that it’s too long, ‘Ferre?” Enjolras asked.  
  
Joly raised his eyebrows, and Combeferre nodded. “I’ll figure that out in the next edit. How about we break for now? It’s getting pretty late.” Joly rewarded him by sliding his leg a little higher.  
  
“I agree,” Courfeyrac said. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m already half asleep.”    
  
Enjolras’s eyes flicked between the two of them, and he stopped and stared at Joly’s naked shoulder for a moment. Joly pulled his scrub back up, and Courfeyrac nudged him lightly, grinning.  
  
Enjolras sighed. “Fine. I suppose we could stop. I’ll finish this on my own and email it to you?”  
  
Combeferre nodded. His eyes sharpened. “And don’t change back the edits I make. Seriously. This is an important time for us—the first response needs to draw people in. We can’t risk repelling anyone with _loaded_ rhetoric.”  
      
Enjolras closed the lid of his laptop swiftly. “I _won’t_. But don’t blame me if we can’t get the attention of the general student body with something so sparse. Your writing reads like a textbook.”  
      
Combeferre’s cheeks reddened. He opened his mouth, but Courfeyrac cut him off. “And that’s why it’s good that you’re both here, so that everything is perfectly balanced and brilliant.” he said quickly. “Let’s put away the claws, shall we? Save them for tearing down the evils inherent in the system.”  
  
Enjolras turned away and snapped his bag closed. Combeferre rolled his eyes, and gripped Joly’s hand harder. He squeezed back and smiled. Courfeyrac leaned over towards Joly and said under his breath, “ _Excellent_ strategy.” Joly grinned.    
  
When they pushed in their chairs, the group at the couch stared at them. Joly gave them a thumbs up. The room sighed in relief.  
  
Grantaire pushed up off the ground, using Eponine for leverage (“Watch it, bitch!”) and ran to Joly. “Thank you thank you thank you!” He tackled him in a hug, knocking him back and tugging his hand free of Combeferre’s. They ran straight into Enjolras, who nearly dropped his computer bag. “I would kiss you if I were attracted to you in any way.”  
  
Joly scoffed. “Are you saying that I’m too ugly for you?” he asked.  
      
Grantaire grinned and cupped Joly’s face in his hands. “Of course not! You’re a peach, _mon cher_.” He leaned in close, and his lips brushed Joly’s ear. His breath was spiced with his favorite cinnamon gum. “But I saw what you did to poor Combeferre. He looked like he wanted to have you right on that table. I don’t think there would be room for me in that bed.” He winked.  
      
Joly snickered. “I’m sure there’s plenty of room in Enjolras’s bed,” he whispered back.  
  
Grantaire playfully swiped at his head. “If only.”  
      
“Grantaire.” Enjolras smoothed down his hair briefly and crossed his arms over his chest. “Joly’s in pain. Try not to manhandle him.”  
      
Grantaire smirked. “Oh, I know the pain he’s in,” he said. He hugged Joly to his side. “It’s the worst pain there is in the world. Cruel, unrelenting—it leaves you tossing, and turning, and _begging_ for relief, doesn’t it?” Feuilly, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac snickered. Enjolras narrowed his eyes at Grantaire.  
Grantaire’s grin became wolfish. “I'm often _vexed_ with such pains myself, my sweet Enjolras.” He winked. Enjolras flushed, but held his ground.  
  
Eponine jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Come on, ass, leave him be,” she said, pushing him towards the door. “I’ll give you a lift home.” Grantaire turned and blew Enjolras a kiss as he was herded out. Enjolras shook his head and shouldered his bag.    
  
Joly sighed. His body still ached, but at least now it was with laughter. Combeferre took his hand again, and raised an eyebrow at him. Joly smiled sheepishly.  
  
After a moment, Combeferre slid his arm around Joly and squeezed. “If you want any sympathy from me, you’d better get yourself into the car.” Joly grinned.  
The rain had cooled things down, and the puddles glowed gold under the streetlamps. They waved goodbye to everyone and jaywalked across the street to Combeferre’s car (a green 80s clunker that Joly pitied and loved). Combeferre opened Joly’s door for him.  
  
“A doctor _and_ a gentleman,” Joly said, ducking into the car and sighing happily as the perfectly worn upholstery hugged his back. _Finally, something with some sort of support._ His shoulders throbbed, but at least now he was nearly home.  
  
Combeferre smiled and leaned against the still-open door. His expression clouded and his brow knit. “Are you okay to do this tonight?” he asked.  
  
“Oh, so _now_ you’re concerned? The tricolor blindfold has been lifted?” Joly teased.  
  
“Joly.”  
  
He sighed. “I’ll be fine.” He ran a finger down the buttons of Combeferre’s shirt. “Hopefully you’ll be able to _relieve_ me of my aches. _Now get in the car_.”  
  
It took a couple turns of the key to get the car going, but it started. Joly congratulated it on one more day of life, and Combeferre pulled out onto the road.  
  
“Are you and Enjolras all right?” he asked. “You seemed really on edge with each other.”  
  
Combeferre sighed. “I don’t know. He’s being strangely vicious about this whole thing. Of course I think that Collard should be held accountable for what he does, but he hasn’t actually done anything wrong yet. Enjolras is jumping to conclusions.”  
  
“Maybe he lost his diary,” Joly said.  
  
Combeferre laughed. “Maybe. I think sometimes he just gets so angry at the world, and how nothing seems to change, and he lashes out. Grantaire’s commentary definitely didn’t help. But he has his portfolio due next week, so he’s nervous about that, and that manifests itself snark. And Feuilly has to miss meetings indefinitely, because his work schedule is changing, and,” he sighed, “it’s a mess right now.”  
  
Joly smiled. “Thank goodness we have you to straighten it all out for us. If you weren’t there, pretty much every meeting would devolve into chaos.”  
  
“Either that, or Jehan would turn them into poetry readings again.”  
  
Joly grinned. “That was a fun night. You guys missed out.”  
  
“The conference was very interesting. And we were still blissfully ignorant of the betrayal of the pact of Les Amis that you and Jehan were propagating. And I thought that you two would be the most trustworthy. I probably should have asked Courfeyrac to stay back.”  
  
“Lots of people came to the next meeting! They would have stayed if you and Enjolras had gone along with our plan and let Jehan read a few poems before getting into the politics. It’s just like you said—you have to woo them. You can’t just bang out with the existentialist social reform right away, or it will scare people off.”  
  
A smirk formed on Combeferre’s face. “I'm just upset that I missed you reading erotic poems by E.E. Cummings. I can't imagine you kept a straight face,” he said.  
      
Joly scoffed. “Ye of little faith.” He unclipped his seat belt, and wrapped his arms around Combeferre's shoulders, leaning in so that Combeferre would feel the heat of his mouth on his pinna.  
  
Combeferre's breath was shaky. “I'm driving.”  
      
Joly ignored him. He slipped one hand into Combeferre’s shirt, stroking the pectoral and playing with his patch of chest hair. “ _I like my body when it is with your body. Muscles better and nerves more. I like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling firm-smoothness and which I will again and again and_ again _kiss_.” He kissed the lobe of his ear, and gently brought it into his mouth to lightly suck. He had missed a few lines, he thought, but the effect was still glorious.  
      
They pulled up to their apartment, and as soon as he had turned off the car, Combeferre buried his hands in Joly's hair and kissed him. His lips opened, and his tongue skimmed along the crease of Joly's lips. Joly let him in, and their tongues greeted each other.    
      
They pulled away, but only just, with Combeferre lightly sucking on Joly’s tongue as it withdrew.  
  
He rested his forehead against Joly’s. “I miss you at meetings.”  
      
Joly kissed his nose. “I know. I’d much rather be there with you and everyone else. But at least it’s only for this semester.”  
      
Combeferre nodded. “Hopefully I’ll be able to keep everything together until then.”  
      
“Hey.” Joly squeezed his knee. “You're doing a great job. You do as much as you can, and still do well in your classes.”  
      
“It doesn't seem to matter—there’s always something getting in the way of actually solving the problems we face.”  
      
“You can't fix the whole world, Combeferre,” he said.  
      
Combeferre sighed. “I know. But I keep trying.” He kissed Joly's cheek, and then unbuckled his seat belt. “Let's go in.”  
  
Their apartment was small and sparse, and it drifted in between unliveably messy and impeccably clean. But it was relatively cheap, the landlady was nice, and it was theirs. Joly placed his backpack next to the couch. He looked at it with longing, and resisted the urge to dive straight into the cushions. Combeferre came up behind him and nuzzled his neck, sliding his hands around his torso and pulling him in close.  
      
"Is this where it hurts?" he asked. He kissed down Joly's lower neck, nuzzling his clavicle.  
      
Joly hummed. "Right in my trapezius is the tightest."  
      
Combeferre licked along the line of the muscle, then followed the path back up with tender kisses. His hands searched for the hem of his scrub shirt, and slipped underneath. Joly sighed, letting his head fall back against Combeferre's shoulder. The kisses progressed up to his sternocleidomastoid, and there they turned into bites.  
      
A small smile curled on Joly’s neck. “You smell like hand sanitizer.”  
      
Joly laughed. “Is that supposed to be romantic?”  
      
There was a light brush over Joly’s crotch, and he drew in a breath, pushing back against Combeferre's body. “If that’s something that gets you off. But I was going to ask if you wanted a shower first.”  
      
Joly moaned; his head fell back, and Combeferre showered a series of kisses on his exposed manubrium. “Fuck yes. Are you coming with me? I will love you forever.” He reached back and tugged on Combeferre's belt loop.  
  
Combeferre turned Joly’s head and nipped at his bottom lip. “Unfortunately, I have to prepare for a house call.”  
  
Joly grinned, and gave Combeferre a quick peck. “I love you.”  
      
Combeferre slapped his ass lightly. “Don’t be long.”  
      
Joly stripped his shirt as he strode towards the bathroom. “Your nurse will be with you shortly,” he called over his shoulder. Combeferre’s laugh echoed from the threshold to the bedroom.  
      
He nearly slumped against the shower wall when the first beads of warm water hit his back. He could have stood under that spray for the rest of the night, but he forced himself to start soaping up his hair. He scrubbed hard, getting rid of all the stale smells of the lab from his body.    
      
He wrapped his towel around his waist, and opened the bathroom door just a crack, to let some of the steam out. He peeked out into the bedroom to see where Combeferre was (and if he catch him in a state of undress, then he wouldn’t be complaining). The room was empty.  
  
He pushed the door the rest of the way open. "Ferre?"  
      
There was no answer. Joly sighed, getting a pair of boxers out of the dresser. “Paging Doctor Combeferre to the bedroom. _Right now_ , if he wants to get any!”  
He sat down on the bed, scooching back until his back rested against the headboard, and ran his fingers through his wet hair. He stretched out his shoulders, and sighed at the coolness of the pillows against his skin.  
  
“Hello, Nurse.”  
  
Combeferre leaned in the doorway to the living room. He was still completely dressed, except he had taken off his glasses and hung them in the open V of his button down.  
  
Joly grinned. “Doctor.”  
  
Combeferre took his glasses from his shirt and set them on the bedside table. Joly sat up a little, supporting himself on the pillows. Combeferre put a hand on his forehead.  
  
“How are you feeling today?” he asked.  
  
“Awful,” Joly said, pouting. “I've been distracted all day. I've barely been able to think.”  
  
Combeferre knit his brow. “I noticed. You didn’t seem quite yourself with the patients today. Is there anything I can do to help? I hate to see you like this.”  
  
Joly shifted closer to Combeferre, until his thigh was pressed against Combeferre’s. _Okay, doctor and nurse. Doctor and nurse having sex in the office. After the office is closed, I would hope. But don’t think about it too much; just go._ “If it’s not too much trouble. I wouldn’t want to keep you.” _Okay, that was terrible._ He giggled, and covered his mouth. “Sorry,” he said from in between his fingers.  
  
Combeferre didn’t even look fazed. He smiled kindly. “It’s not a problem at all; it’s what I’m here for. What seems to be the problem? Your shoulders?”  
  
Joly nodded, taking a breath to bring himself together. “I can't tell if it's just muscle spasms, or if it's something more serious.”  
  
Combeferre finally moved, brushing his hand on Joly's thigh, and putting the other on his back, guiding him forward. “Let me get behind you, I'll take a look.”  
Joly giggled again, but did as he was told. Combeferre slid behind him, and pulled Joly back by his hips until he was sitting in his lap.  
  
“Okay,” Combeferre said. He put his hands on Joly's shoulders, and pressed his thumbs into the posterior lateral triangle. The muscle jumped; little sizzles of pain shot out like fireworks, and Joly pulled away.  
  
“Ah!”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
"It's fine, it's just...really tight.”  
  
Combeferre rubbed more softly, just small circles in the middle of the muscle. He gripped and pinched the scalene muscles with his fingers, and after another flash of pain, something loosened, and Joly relaxed.  
  
“Oh, that's it,” he breathed.  
  
“Here?” Combeferre did the same thing, but he drew his thumbs out over the tops of his shoulders, kneading out knots when he found them.  
  
Joly sunk back towards Combeferre. “Yes.” He grinned. “You’re so good to do this for me, Doctor.”  
  
Combeferre hummed and moved from Joly’s shoulders to his teres major and minor. “You work so hard. You deserve to relax.”  
  
“I do,” Joly said. “You doctors can be such pains sometimes.”  
  
Combeferre pinched his thigh. Joly laughed, and nuzzled the side of Combeferre’s neck. “Not you, though. Just the other doctors. You’re always a perfect gentleman to me.” He stroked his nose against the skin. Combeferre couldn’t wear cologne or scented soap while he volunteered at the clinic, so all there was was the smell of his sweat and his skin, and a little bit of lingering coffee and cigarettes from the air in the Musain.  
  
Combeferre sighed contentedly. He cupped Joly’s cheek, drawing his hand down the mandible, curling his fingers under his chin and tilting his head up. He pressed a feathery kiss to the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Mmm.” Joly twisted his upper body so that they could kiss fully. Combeferre ran his tongue over the upper lip, and brought the lower into his mouth to suck. Joly moaned, and Combeferre placed his hands on Joly’s hips, squeezing them gently. They started slowly (so slowly) sliding down the V towards his groin.  
  
Joly broke away, and pulled back when Combeferre followed him, trying to get his lips back. He shook his head lightly, clearing away the fog of the heat building up around them and clouding his brain. “Doctor,” he said. If there was going to be any more of anything other than kissing or touching or sex, it had to happen now, before they were both pulled completely under.  
  
Combeferre’s breath rattled out of his mouth. “Nurse.” He licked his lips. “I think I may need to perform a more thorough examination.”  
  
Joly nodded. He lifted his hips off Combeferre’s lap; Combeferre groaned, his head falling back against the headboard with a thunk. His hips rolled up, chasing after Joly, and his erection was obvious through his trousers. Joly only grinned and straddled Combeferre’s hips.  
      
He settled, holding back a moan when Combeferre rutted their hips together, and wrapped his arms around Combeferre’s neck. “Whatever it takes, Doctor.” He traced down the line of his collar. “Whatever you need.”  
      
Combeferre’s hands fell back to his hips, gripping them tightly. His eyes were wide and glassy, and Joly waited to see what he would do. He was almost to full hardness, but he resisted the urge to start touching himself, even though that usually drove Combeferre wild.  
  
Combeferre gazed at Joly, studying his body carefully. His eyes stilled for a moment on the swell forming in Joly’s boxers, but he was methodical, and continued all the way down to Joly’s feet and back up again.  
  
Joly felt a warm thrill go through him. He loved the feeling of Combeferre’s eyes on him. It seemed like something guileless, but they were both so busy, at times it felt like they didn’t look at each other enough. At least for now, he was the center of Combeferre’s world.  
  
“I think having you undress completely would be helpful,” Combeferre said.  
  
Joly smirked. He climbed off of Combeferre and sat down next to him on the bed. He hooked his thumbs under the elastic and tugged his boxers down, kicking them off his feet and out of the way. The slight change in temperature gave him gooseflesh and fully hardened his cock, which curved up against his stomach.  
  
He turned to Combeferre. “How’s that?” he asked.  
  
“Much better,” Combeferre said. “Lie down, please.”  
  
Combeferre moved over so that Joly could lie in the middle of the bed. Joly stretched out languidly, making a show of pushing his hips upward and stroking his calf with his foot. When he was comfortable, Combeferre took his wrist in hand and turned it over; he pressed two fingers to the outer edge, feeling the thrum of Joly’s blood. Before he let go, he brought the wrist up to his lips and kissed the thin skin above the soft blue veins. He turned his head to the side and placed it against Joly’s chest, listening again.  
  
Joly watched as Combeferre count the heartbeats under his breath, and felt dreamy. It was play, but Combeferre didn’t give it any less gravity than he would in real life. Joly wound his fingers into Combeferre’s hair, massaging the scalp. Combeferre glanced up and saw his expression.  
  
He lifted his ear away, but turned and pressed his lips to the Angle of Louis. He lingered, brushing his lips against the joint. Joly sighed.  
  
Combeferre glanced up again, before licking down the length of Joly's sternum in a single, broad stroke. Joly stuttered, arching his back slightly to follow the path of Combeferre's tongue. Combeferre licked all over his chest, piquing the skin.  
  
“Ahn.” He fisted a handful of hair and tugged when Combeferre took a nipple into his mouth, lapping at it over and _over_ again.  
  
“Is that good?” Combeferre mumbled. Joly nodded frantically. He let go of his hair and slid the hand underneath Combeferre’s collar, raking his nails over his back.    
  
“That’s perfect,” he breathed. Combeferre practically purred, and Joly’s hips rutted up. “Oh _god_ , yes.”  
  
Combeferre let go, leaving Joly keening, but gave a few parting licks before rising back up to look Joly in the eye. His hair was mussed from Joly's pulling, and his lips shimmered with saliva.  
  
“What do you want?” he asked.  
  
“You,” Joly said.  
  
“Right now?” Combeferre asked. His palm pressed against Joly’s erection, and Joly cried out. “Or do you want me to examine you orally as well?”  
  
Joly squirmed, rocking up against Combeferre’s hand. “I don’t care. Literally anything you do will be hot. Just, please, Ferre, do something.”  
  
“Hmmm.” Combeferre pressed harder on his cock, curling his fingers around it and gently squeezing. Joly gritted his teeth.  
  
“Hurry, please, if you don’t mind,” he said.  
  
“Don’t give me so many choices if you don’t want me to think about it,” Combeferre said. He took his hand away, which made Joly mewl, but he straddled his body, bracketing Joly’s hips with his knees. He traced down Joly’s side with one hand. “You are so beautiful.”  
  
Joly was wriggling, his body searching for any kind of affection it could find. He placed his hands on Combeferre’s shoulders, and dragged them down to the line of buttons on his shirt.  
  
“You too,” he said weakly, and started unfastening buttons as quickly as he could. Combeferre had to help him with the last few, and he sat up to roll the shirt of his shoulders. He gathered it up at the small of his back and threw it on the floor. Joly watched him with hungry eyes.  
  
“Come here,” he said, drawing Combeferre back down while also trying to work his belt buckle open.  
  
“Let me do this,” Combeferre said as Joly’s fingers shook and slipped. “Get the lube out of the drawer.” Joly nodded and let Combeferre climb off him, and sat up enough so that he could reach over to the side table. There was a condom already out of the box, which he hooked his finger around, as well as the plastic bottle of lube.  
  
Combeferre finished shaking his last pant leg off; his underwear was tangled in with them, and his cock was already leaking precome.  
  
Joly wrapped his arm around Combeferre’s middle, grinding his cock against Combeferre’s hip. Combeferre moaned, shifting to his side and bringing their bodies together fully. He laid Joly down on his back, and cupped the back of Joly’s knee to wrap his leg around his waist.  
  
“Ah!”  
  
“Oh, _Joly_.”  
  
Joly pressed his nose into Combeferre’s shoulder, rolling his hips up again and again. Combeferre’s hand slid up the flank of his thigh. Joly wrapped the other leg around Combeferre, and he moaned loudly when he felt Combeferre’s cock slip between his asscheeks.  
  
“Joly.”  
  
Joly lifted his head. Combeferre kissed him, an arm coming around his back and cradling him. He was hoisted a little higher up on the pillows, and Combeferre started to pull away.  
  
“No,” Joly murmured, locking his legs, trying to keep him.  
  
Combeferre pressed his nose to Joly’s cheek. “I have to prep you,” he said. For a moment Joly only held tighter, but then he opened his legs and let Combeferre move back.  
  
His hips couldn’t stop moving; he fucked the empty space above him as Combeferre found the lube. It had fallen onto the floor in their scramble. “Ferre,” he whined. He bit his lip and reached out, running his hand down Combeferre’s shoulder. The skin was burning, and if he had the energy he would sit up and lick it.  
  
“I know,” Combeferre said. He set the lube next to them, and positioned himself on his knees in front of Joly. He grabbed the extra pillow, and Joly dutifully lifted his hips to let him slide it under.  
  
For a moment, Combeferre stared at him, drinking him in with his eyes. Joly stared back. Combeferre had a spreading pink flush on his cheeks and neck; his shoulders glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. His chest was heavy with breath, but solid.  
  
He was beautiful. And he was Joly’s.  
  
“Combeferre,” he said, softly. Combeferre blinked, and his eyes focused again. Joly smiled. “Come here,” he whispered.  
  
Combeferre smiled and nodded. He leaned forward and placed his hands on Joly’s thighs, parting his legs. Joly spread them wider.  
  
Combeferre nuzzled Joly’s thigh, kissing up to the beginning of the inguinal ligament and licking along the crease. Joly had to hold his hips down as he got closer and closer to his groin, but maddeningly, he never touched it.  
  
The first slick finger pressed against his entrance, sliding in smoothly, and Joly bucked up. “Ferre. Combeferre. Oh, god, yes.” Combeferre added a second finger, and then a third. He thrusted slowly in and out, crooking and stretching his fingers as he withdrew. Joly fretted and clenched, clutching at the covers and rocking down.  
  
“Oh, you’re tight,” Combeferre breathed. He crooked his fingers a little more, and Joly moaned. His fingertips had barely nudged against the prostate, and he tilted his hips, trying to get just the right angle.  
  
“There, there! Please, oh, _oh_ …”  
  
Combeferre thrusted in a few more times, but then tugged his fingers out, leaving Joly empty and wanting.  
  
“ _Combeferre_.”  
   
Combeferre ripped open the condom with his teeth. “I know, love, I know.”  
  
“Don’t ‘ _love_ ’ me,” Joly snapped. He groaned and gripped his cock, frantically stroking it. Combeferre’s hand joined his in a moment, and he settled himself in the cradle of Joly’s open thighs.  
  
“God, Joly.” His other hand gripped Joly’s hip, sliding back to his ass, squeezing one cheek…  
  
“Now,” Joly said. “Take me now. I can’t…I can’t last like this.” Every muscle in his lower body was strung taut, and it felt good, it felt so good, and everything kept getting _tighter_.  
  
“Fuck,” Combeferre said.    
  
“ _Please_ ,” Joly said.  
  
Combeferre let go of the hand over his erection, as he lined up the head of his cock at Joly’s entrance and pushed inside. Joly’s muscles tightened, overstimulated and excited, and Combeferre had to stop.  
  
“Joly—fuck—you need to—”  
  
“I know. Sorry,” Joly said. He took a few deep breaths, bringing himself back from the edge, and his body relaxed enough for Combeferre to push in further.  
  
“Yes. Yes yes _yes_. Oh, that’s it.” Joly slid his legs back around Combeferre’s waist, digging the balls of his feet into his back as Combeferre buried himself completely.  
  
“Joly. _Joly_.” Combeferre slumped a little when he was fully inside, his head falling onto Joly’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m here,” Joly whispered. He pressed kisses to Combeferre’s parted lips. “I’m here. You feel so good. So hard inside me. Don’t,” he bucked his hips when Combeferre started moving again, and nudged a sensitive spot inside of him. “Don’t stop.”  
  
Combeferre set the rhythm, slow, but deep. Joly tightened each time he pulled out, making Combeferre groan and thrust harder.     
  
“Joly.” Combeferre’s voice was rough; his breath hot against Joly’s neck. “Oh god, Joly. You’re—you’re incredible. Beautiful.” He smoothed his lips over Joly’s neck, nibbling and licking, tasting the salt and sweat on his skin. “You’re...oh you’re _tight_.”  
  
Joly gripped him by the hips, speeding up their thrusting. “I love you,” he said. He brought Combeferre’s lips up to his. “I love you,” he mumbled against them. Combeferre’s eyelids fluttered shut.  
  
Their pace devolved into swift rocking. Joly desperately rutted and bucked; he was close, so close, and he could feel Combeferre’s thighs starting to quiver, which meant he was close too. He twisted his fingers into Combeferre’s hair, mashing their lips together, drinking down Combeferre’s moans greedily.  
  
“Joly,” Combeferre said. “Oh god, I’m going to come.”  
  
Joly nodded, “Please. I’m ready. I’m so ready.” He scraped and bit at Combeferre’s bottom lip. “Need you, Ferre.”  
  
Combeferre pressed his lips firmly to Joly’s, and pressed him down into the bed by his shoulders. He gave Joly five _hard_ , slow thrusts.  
  
He hit Joly’s prostrate with every one.  
  
Joly threw back his head and screamed. There was that tight, impossibly amazing clench in his cock, and _fuck fuck fuck yes Combeferre_  
  
“Oh _god, yes!_ ”  
  
 _“Joly!”_  
  
His whole body heaved and undulated; Combeferre’s hands held down his shoulders, but his hips rippled and thrusted in whatever way kept the feeling of ecstasy. He felt his own come splattering warm over his and Combeferre’s bellies, and Combeferre finally stilled, holding him so close and saying his name like a devotional.  
  
Joly sighed as he felt his body relax and his breath come back. The fire that had consumed them softened down to a warm glow, and he smiled.  
  
Combeferre lowered himself slowly, being careful not to crush him. Joly put a hand on his hip and guided him down. His shoulders were shaking, and Joly kissed them with sweet, closed mouthed kisses.  
  
“Mmm.” Joly stroked his hair gently. “Combeferre.”  
  
Combeferre nuzzled into his neck. He spent a few more minutes lying still and being boneless and while Joly kissed and cuddled him. Then he raised himself up and lay down next to Joly on the bedspread. Joly moved to lay half on top of him, using his chest as a pillow.  
  
“Well fuck,” Joly said.  
  
Combeferre laughed. “Yeah.” He sighed and put an arm around Joly, gently stroking the small of his back.  
  
Joly slowly shifted so that he was lying on his stomach, and rested his chin on Combeferre’s sternum. He trailed his fingers over Combeferre’s cheek. “I love you.”  
  
Combeferre caught his fingers and kissed them, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. “I love you, Joly.” He kissed them again. “My Joly.” Joly kissed Combeferre’s chest, and their hands fell onto the bedspread, fingers twining together.  
  
“How do you feel?” Combeferre asked.  
  
“Amazing,” Joly sighed.  
  
“I mean your shoulders.”  
  
“Oh.” His whole body was slack; there was no bunching or twinging or buzzing in his marrow. “All right, I think. I don’t know how I’ll be in the morning, but I’ll definitely sleep like a rock tonight.”  
  
“Good. We can be lazy tomorrow if we want. It’s the weekend now.”  
  
“Mmm.” Joly’s mind drifted, replaying bits and pieces of the evening. A smile grew across his face, and a giggle bubbled out of him.  
  
“What?” Combeferre asked. Joly shook his head, burying his face in Combeferre’s chest. “Come on. You won’t be able to stop until you tell me.”  
  
Joly laugh sparkled. “It’s a terrible joke. Just—I hope your husband doesn’t find out.”  
  
Combeferre lifted his head up. “What? My _husband_?”  
  
Joly shook his head. “I was thinking about the doctor and nurse. It’s dumb. But I figure if they have to meet in the office, he already has someone.” Combeferre stared at him, eyebrows shooting up, and Joly laughed.  
  
Combeferre knit his brow. “But why is he married? Why can’t he just be with the nurse? An office romance thing.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with that. But a clandestine affair between star-crossed lovers is much more exciting.” He paused. “Maybe it’s Enjolras. The real reason you’re fighting with him is because he’s realized that his hot doctor husband is having an affair with the _irresistible_ Nurse Joly. But he’s about to run for re-election as president of France, so he can’t make waves with the tabloids. He must content himself with making passive-aggressive stabs at you about your writing skills, which are really double-entendres about how terrible you are in bed. Which are lies, because you’re amazing. He just hasn’t gotten any in a while. You tire yourself out with me before you get home to the Palais de l'Élysée.”     
  
Combeferre chuckled. “Sounds like some late-night medical drama.”  
  
“Not really.” Joly yawned, repositioning so that he was lying on his side on the bed. “You only have sex with me. You’d have to put out for the whole hospital if you want your own medical drama.”    
  
Combeferre wrapped his arms around his waist, spooning him. “Sounds exhausting. I think I’ll stick with Nurse Joly.”  
  
Joly put his hands on top of Combeferre’s. “Excellent choice.” He snuggled back into Combeferre’s arms. “Good night, Doctor.”  
  
Combeferre kissed the back of his neck. “Good night, my love.”


End file.
